


Breaking Routine

by blue_pencil_case



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), COVID-19, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Married Sex, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pencil_case/pseuds/blue_pencil_case
Summary: Variety is the spice of life, so Aziraphale and Crowley pretend to be strangers on a day that is completely Normal.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 82





	Breaking Routine

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First off, please know that I am not trying to trivialize the pandemic or any of the safety practices associated with it (wear a mask!!!). I wrote this mostly as a form of self-comfort.
> 
> cw: covid-19 mention (by decidedly not mentioning it), blow jobs, anal sex

It was a crisp summer day, and absolutely everything was Fine. It was so Fine, in fact, that the Fineness of the day justified the capital F placed upon it as a stylistic choice. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary that tipped the quality of this crisp summer day to good or bad ( _especially_ not to Good or Bad) and absolutely everything was completely normal.

Aziraphale sat in a quaint little café, and he sat in it because it was open. In addition, this quaint little café was filled with people almost to the point of overcrowding. The amount of people in the café was inconsequential. A dull murmur of conversation served as background noise for the small, enclosed, indoor space.

With a raised pinky, Aziraphale took a sip from a cardboard tea cup that had been brought to him by another person (instead of being prepared by his own hands). With rapture, he poured over a newspaper.

It was a slow news day. The most interesting local story was about a teenager who had started a campaign in which they encouraged their classmates to foster kittens.

Aziraphale wished he had a muffin, but then he remembered that he could simply go up to the counter and purchase one from the barista, who would hand it to him without anything separating them. Perhaps he would even have to stand in a queue for it.

After another sip from his tea cup, Aziraphale saw a shadow pass over his newspaper, the same kind of shadow that would be created by a person who was standing closer to him than six feet. He paused his reading and set down his drink.

A dashingly handsome stranger stood before him. Aziraphale could tell he was handsome because there was nothing covering his nose or mouth. His nose and mouth were very handsome.

“Hello,” said the stranger, before reaching out a hand for Aziraphale to shake. Aziraphale obliged, and a glorious shudder ran down his spine at the direct contact of palm to palm.

“Hello,” said Aziraphale. The word was extremely comprehensible because there was nothing placed in front of his mouth to muffle the sound.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were sitting here alone,” said Cr- the stranger. “Would you like some… close company?”

Aziraphale had to swallow against a sudden dryness in his throat, and used two fingers to open up his pressed collar.

“Yes,” he replied, before gesturing to the chair beside him, the _closest_.

Crowley introduced himself as Crowley, and the two beings, who previously had not known each other whatsoever, hit it off immediately. They discussed normal things that happened normally, like the fact that Aziraphale brushed shoulders with many people on his walk to reach the café they were currently sitting in, and how Crowley had recently seen a film in a crowded theatre. The film he had seen was released on exactly the date the producers had initially intended.

Over time, the two began to subtly shift closer, until their shins began to brush casually, and their mouths hovered with scant space between them. With each clear enunciation, Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s warm, moist breath on his own lips.

“And then,” continued Crowley, “I went to the grocery store.”

A hand surreptitiously found its way to Aziraphale’s knee. It was very forward, for a near stranger, but Aziraphale relished it.

“A grocery store?” Aziraphale breathed.

“Yes,” said Crowley. “And they had every item I needed.”

Aziraphale swallowed. The hand traveled further up his knee, until a palm rested on his ample thigh and fingertips were mere centimetres away from the seam in his trousers.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, but perhaps ‘said’ isn’t the right word because it sounded more like a moan.

“In stock,” Crowley said in a voice so low it was nearly inaudible. “Right there on the shelves.”

Aziraphale couldn’t take it anymore. He finished off his tea with a last indulgent suck at the plastic top and gazed back at Crowley with smoldering eyes.

“My dear,” he said, “I don’t normally do this, but…”

Crowley leaned in closer, impossibly, as they were practically pressed chest-to-chest. His seat was flush with Aziraphale’s.

“Would you, perhaps, be interested in… accompanying me home?”

Crowley’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but there was a certain glint in his eyes that Aziraphale knew well. Didn’t know well. 

“Home?” he said, mock-affronted. “Whatever for?”

Aziraphale squirmed in his chair, breaking eye contact to glance at the table. His mouth twisted as he tried to conceal a smile. With an uncharacteristic surge of boldness, he said, “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but you are rather attractive. Perhaps, we might… entertain one another?”

The hand, a constant presence both on Aziraphale’s thigh and in the forefront of his mind, sneaked just the slightest bit closer to trace Aziraphale’s flies.

“We’ve only just met,” said Crowley, sweetly, yet so obviously scandalised. He rested his face in his unoccupied hand, in a way that was very face-touchingly.

Did he want Aziraphale to beg? Aziraphale adjusted his coat, visibly flustered, and tried desperately to think of what to say to get this gorgeous man into bed as efficiently as possible.

Luckily, after a moment of watching him struggle, Crowley took pity on him and leaned in. His lips just barely brushed the shell of Aziraphale’s ear.

“When I kiss you, I’m going to transfer saliva from my mouth to your mouth. And it’ll be completely fine.”

Aziraphale pounced. He hooked five fingers into Crowley’s lapel and dragged him to the door. Crowley’s chair scraped back from their kitchen- café table, and he fumbled with his mobile to turn off the Coffee Shop Ambiance Background Noise For Study and Relaxation 10 Hours.

It took only a few seconds to make their way from the café to the bedroom, but it could have been hours for how worked up they were. 

Along the way, they grasped enthusiastically at any body part they could reach (gangly elbows, plush love handles, etc), and Aziraphale ended up pinned to the bedroom door with a generous handful of Crowley’s arse. Crowley’s hand cradled the back of his head as a buffer between door and skull and to prevent any non-negotiated brainings.

They were close, so close, and each exhale of Crowley’s became Aziraphale’s inhale.

Crowley leaned in, practically tongue-first, and Aziraphale opened his mouth sooner than immediately. What followed could be better described as a germy exchange of spit than an actual kiss, but Aziraphale was far from complaining.

Eventually, they broke apart, and Aziraphale said through shuddering breaths, “This is my home.”

“Yes,” said a just-as-winded Crowley, because the first rule of improv is to agree, “it is.”

Aziraphale shuffled for the doorknob with the hand bereft of buttocks. “You don’t have to wash your hands right after coming inside.”

This would have been the perfect opportunity for a “coming inside” joke, and the fact that there wasn’t one really gave Aziraphale some insight into the state of Crowley’s mind.

The door swung open, and they stumbled into a dark room before someone managed to flip on the light. Between frantic kisses, Aziraphale pushed at Crowley’s smart, black blazer -- which was definitely not one pyjama shirt in an endless rotation of pyjama shirts -- and Crowley did a little wiggle to help get it off.

It was only a matter of time before they were both naked from the waist up, and Aziraphale was on his back, on the bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows. Crowley sucked at a padded collarbone, and Aziraphale voiced his appreciation as he cradled the back of Crowley’s neck.

“Darling,” said Aziraphale, “let’s have sex in a face-to-face position.”

Crowley moaned, and nodded like a souvenir bobblehead. “Can I suck you, first? We won’t even have to do it through a hole in a bathroom stall-”

Aziraphale buried his face into his own shoulder and made a noise that was a cross between a hiccup and a cough but _resolutely_ not a laugh. 

“Yes,” he replied, after he contained himself.

Crowely pressed one kiss to the collarbone, and then another, shockingly sweet, to the center of Aziraphale’s sternum. With all the leisure of a right demon of sloth, he took his sweet time making his way downward.

It was as he was pressing his lips to the curve of Aziraphale’s stomach that Aziraphale pulled himself out of his lust-driven stupor and remembered.

“Wait!” he said, perhaps a little too loud.

Crowley blinked up at him.

“What about… protection?” said Aziraphale in a huff of breath.

Crowley pressed his lips together and turned his head, the corners of his mouth twitching. When he faced Aziraphale again, his expression was adequately serious. “Supposse I didn’t think of it,” he said.

“You didn’t-“ gasped Aziraphale, “Crowley! We are strangers! What an unsafe practice.”

“Do we- do you still even have condoms?”

“Yes!” replied Aziraphale, indignant. “Of course! In the bedside drawer.”

With hurried obedience Crowley flopped himself up the bed to the aforementioned drawer and began digging. After quickly locating a strip of newly-bought condoms, he scurried back down to his rightful place between Aziraphale’s thighs.

Crowley tried to tug down Aziraphale’s zipper with his teeth, couldn’t quite manage it, and ended up finishing the job with his hand. With a helpful shimmy, Aziraphale pushed his trousers down his hips and Crowley tugged them off the rest of the way.

Crowley dutifully applied the condom with a raised eyebrow and a smile and then happily got to work.

If one had to approximate, they could say that Aziraphale made a sound that was close to: “Mmm-ff-MM-mmAUUGH!”

Normally, Crowley took his time to get them both warmed up to the idea before he started employing his most famous tricks. Today, however, he wasted no time at all, taking Aziraphale as deep as he could in one, smooth stroke.

_Lord,_ thought Aziraphale. _It’s like he’s unhinging his jaw!_

Crowely was still for a moment, gazing up at Aziraphale with slightly-watery eyes and poorly-concealed adoration. Aziraphale whimpered, and Crowely took that as his cue.

It wasn’t a secret that this was one of Crowley’s favorite things. With earnest enthusiasm, he bobbed his head and moaned unabashedly. As he slurped and sucked with abandon, Aziraphale made noises that got progressively more incoherent.

Crowley had just begun to keep up a nice rhythm of repeatedly working his way to the base, in between hurried presses of his cock against the mattress, when Aziraphale begged for a break.

“Dear,” Aziraphale breathed after Crowley pulled off, with a reverent caress of his cheek, “Fuck me? Please?”

It would be rude to refuse such a request, especially when Aziraphale had been so polite, so it was another frantic trip to the bedside drawer for Crowley. Along the way, he must’ve realized he still had his trousers on, so he fought a losing battle with them for a spell. They seemed to be considerably tighter than usual.

After Crowley had managed to discard the wretched garment, which required completely inverting it in the process, he snatched up their bottle of lube and raised it over his head in triumph. Aziraphale clapped for him as he made his way back down for the second time.

Aziraphale made a grab for the pillow they typically used for this (their “sex pillow,” if you will) and tucked it under his arse as Crowley scooted closer on his knees. With a bit of maneuvering, they ended up with Azirphale’s spread thighs over Crowley’s. 

Crowley bent to press a kiss on Aziraphale’s stomach (because he liked it, that round stomach, and took every opportunity to tell Aziraphale so).

But there was no time to waste. Crowley snapped open the lube bottle and squirted a bit over his palm with an embarrassing squelch (they were running out). He warmed it up a bit in his hand before massaging two fingers over Aziraphale’s hole.

No matter how many times they did this, getting started always felt a little odd, a little too sensitive. Aziraphale squirmed a bit, and Crowley leaned down for a kiss that Aziraphale happily met halfway, toes curling. As they snogged, Crowley slowly pressed a finger inside.

Aziraphale very much enjoyed this part, and sometimes, they began and ended with just this and a shuddering, wailing release. But not this time; this time, Aziraphale had plans.

Once Aziraphale’s body was a bit more used to the idea, he told Crowley so with a petulant whine and a reminder. “ _Inside_ me, dear.”

“ _Angel._ ” Crowley pulled his fingers out, and visibly jolted in the way people do when they remember something that they were just about to forget. With a couple taps of his hand against the mattress and a tilt of his body, he located the strip of condoms. Aziraphale watched with great rapture as he opened one, put it on inside out, got another one, dropped it, got another one, and put it on.

Crowley slicked up his cock, and leaned back a bit to see what he was doing. Sometimes, Aziraphale liked to contort himself to watch as well, to see Crowely slowly sink into him centimetre by centimetre. But on this particular day, he was content to lie back and be spoiled.

Crowley held his cock with one hand as he pushed in, and Aziraphale reached out to lightly grip at his sides for support. Crowley’s inhale caught in his chest. Aziraphale breathed deeply against the burn.

When they were finally pressed pelvis-to-pelvis, Crowley paused, eyes screwed shut, and held still. Aziraphale studied his face: forehead scrunched, lower lip bitten, a sheen of perspiration already on his brow. 

He was so unbelievably handsome, this love of Aziraphale’s life.

Crowley opened his bleary eyes and gazed down at him, a smile immediately spreading on that delightfully handsome face. His voice was throaty and soft as he said, “How do you feel?”

“Delightful, darling,” Aziraphale said with a matching dopey grin, reaching up to brush his knuckles sweetly across Crowley’s cheek. Crowley tilted his head to kiss Aziraphale’s palm, and Aziraphale ached with it. “Move, please?”

Crowley wasn’t one to deny him, so he immediately began a slow push-and-pull that would have Aziraphale gasping and babbling in no time. With each thrust, a little, involuntary sound bubbled up from Crowley’s lungs. Aziraphale drank in his sweet moans like the finest Cabernet.

It wasn’t quite the best angle, though, and Aziraphale shifted his legs up to wrap around Crowley’s skinny waist. Crowley shuffled to a better position to help pull them up, and soon they were locked around his back, with Aziraphale’s heels digging firmly into Crowley’s arse.

With some obvious trial-and-error (because this was an art, not a science), Crowley gave a few ambitious upward thrusts, until-

“ _There!_ There, right there, Crowley!” cried Aziraphale, his words punctuated by a sob as he clutched desperately at Crowley’s sides. He could already feel a tingling pleasure in the base of his spine.

With a bit of shuffling, Crowley leaned down to press them chest-to-chest and buried his face into Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale’s hand came up automatically to brush through his delightful red curls.

Crowley’s body was almost serpentine. His movements were elegant in anything he did (God, his _walk_. Aziraphale hated to see him go but he loved to watch him leave). But he was especially good at _this_. His thrusts were smooth, but urgent. With every fluid arch of his back and eager snap of his hips, he made Aziraphale’s cock twitch and leak.

“Love,” Aziraphale said, the word broken in two by a moan, “You’re so good to me. So good. You feel so good…”

Crowley attempted to garble a response, his hands fisting the sheets on either side of Aziraphale’s torso. “Nnng. You’re so beautiful, gorgeous, angel, angel, my angel-”

Aziraphale could feel himself beginning to shiver, starting in his groin and radiating up his spine, and he knew he was close. Crowley’s stomach rubbed against his cock with each enthusiastic thrust, and the stimulation was starting to push him past the point of no return. He was helpless to do anything but clutch at Crowley’s sweat-slicked shoulders and hold on.

It was only a few more moments before something clicked into place, like a needle sliding into a groove, and Aziraphale was tossed into oblivion. With a full-body shudder, his body tightened in waves, from stomach to chest. Mouth open, he threw his head backwards and gave himself over to the sensation completely.

A moment later, he was wholly dismantled. He checked in with his limbs to find them absolutely numb, and his thighs, which had previously been in danger of crushing Crowley alive, relaxed around Crowley’s hips.

Distantly, he could still hear Crowley panting harshly in his ear, his thrusts uncoordinated and frantic in that beautiful, tell-tale way. With two more pushes and a slow, filthy grind, Crowley shook apart.

And then he was slumped, his body a pleasant weight over Aziraphale, his breaths slowly evening. Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile as he traced his fingers through Crowley’s silky hair, massaging his scalp in the way he knew he liked.

_Poor thing,_ Aziraphale thought. _All tuckered out._

“Love you,” murmured Crowley, his voice muffled into Aziraphale’s damp shoulder. “Love you so much.”

Aziraphale gave a happy, exhausted sigh. “I love you too, darling.”

Crowley was reluctant to pull away, but eventually it was necessary that they unstick themselves from each other. As he padded off to the bathroom to dispose of the condoms, his gait far more wobbly than usual, Aziraphale took the opportunity to ogle him.

To the sound of water running, Aziraphale placed their sex pillow on the floor (right side up, this is very important) and tidied up their bedside drawer.

Crowley appeared back into the room soon after and took three steps before collapsing onto the bed. With what seemed to be great effort, he crawled up to Aziraphale and shimmied his way under the sheets beside him.

It was as natural as anything for the two of them to roll towards each other and tangle their limbs together. Aziraphale’s arm ended up under Crowley’s head, and Crowley’s leg sandwiched itself between Aziraphale’s. For a moment, they took slow breaths and shared in the intimate silence.

“Was it what you expected?” asked Crowley, brushing his fingers through Aziraphale’s chest hair.

Aziraphale, at a loss, could only say, “Hmm?” He wrapped his arm more securely around his husband.

“Did you enjoy the game?”

Aziraphale blinked and couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. “Ah… I think I may have… forgotten we were playing. About halfway through.”

Crowley snorted a laugh, and Aziraphale hastened to assure, “I did, though! I enjoyed it immensely. You were _marvellous_ , dear.”

“So were you, angel,” Crowley said, placing a short and sweet kiss on Aziraphale’s lips. “Should do it again sometime.”

Aziraphale was in full agreement, and soon, they settled down to talk (in between stolen kisses and intermittent cooing).

It was as they were discussing dinner plans that Aziraphale noticed the revealing droop of Crowley’s eyelids and the subtle way he began to slur as he spoke.

“Nap, darling?” he asked, already shifting a bit to better accommodate exactly that. Crowley, a renowned nap enthusiast, gave a sleepy nod and rolled over. He wriggled a bit to situate himself better against Aziraphale, and once again, Aziraphale was baffled by how they fit.

Every sharp point of Crowley’s vertebrae pressed perfectly to the softness of Aziraphale’s stomach and chest. He was the ideal shape for holding, for sleeping soundly in Aziraphale’s embrace. It was hard to imagine that Aziraphale had the power to contain so much evil in his own two arms.

Not to say that Crowley wasn’t an adept big spoon as well. He liked to consider himself well-rounded. When wrapped in Crowley’s long limbs, Aziraphale always felt the perfect size.

Aziraphale had never dared to hope to have this.

He had expected to live out his days in an endless loop of work, meals, and sleep. Of dining in high-end restaurants alone. Of hearing his own voice echo in an empty room. Of reading late into the night to imagine something different.

It took years and a complete upheaval of Aziraphale’s daily life for him to realize that he didn’t actually mind loops. Not if he was with Crowley.

Not if a portion of those loops was occupied by a person constantly underfoot while he baked. Of laughing at sitcoms in a sprawl-limbed heap. Of attempting to focus on a book as someone snored beside him.

There would be a nap tonight. And then a shower that may or may not be grabby. Dinner. Television. Sleep.

And it would be Fine.

**Author's Note:**

> The bit about the bathroom stall is based off of the government-recommended use of glory holes on the British Columbia Centre for Disease Control official website.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
